


Swinging on a Pendulum of My Own Design

by Toadflame



Category: RWBY
Genre: AU, M/M, most OCs are minor, preslash, then slash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-01
Updated: 2014-01-12
Packaged: 2017-12-28 02:51:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/986799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toadflame/pseuds/Toadflame
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>If you remember nothing else, remember this. Chess is just a game. Real people aren't pieces. And you can't assign more value to some of them than to others. Not to me. Not to anyone. People are not a thing that you can sacrifice. The lesson is that anyone who looks on the world as if it was a game of chess deserves to lose.</em>  Harold Finch, Person of Interest</p>
<p> </p>
<p>AU from Volume 1, Ep. 11 (Jaunedice).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dangling from a String

It started off as bruises.

Jaune frowned as he examined the yellow-purple swatch across his shoulder.  Was this the one from being smashed into the locker?  Or…no, the ones across his ribs were from running into the edge of his shield.  The one on his shoulder might still be the one from the exhibition spar he’d been roped into.

Jaune still wasn’t sure how Professor Goodwitch had gotten him into that one.

Regardless, he winced as his fingers brushed against the large bruise.  It was tender and painful still, though it was rapidly healing.

“Jaune?”

“Gah!”  Jaune snapped from his daze at Pyrrha’s voice.  “Just a second!”  He reached for the hoodie on the chair next to him, struggling into it.  He froze when he heard the click of the door.

“Pyrrha!  What-what’re you doing?!” he squeaked, frantically trying to pull his clothes on.  Cool fingers brushing against his still-exposed ribs stopped him, arms held in the air awkwardly by the shirt.

“Jaune, what are these from?” his teammate asked, sounding concerned.  He winced, finally getting his head out the right hole and shirt pulled down to its normal position.

“Ah, you know,” he said, floundering awkwardly for words.  “Stupid Cardin, of course.”

“He did not leave you such bruises before,” Pyrrha said.  She put a hand on Jaune’s arm.  “Why did you not heal yourself with your Aura?”

Jaune turned away to hide his pursed lips.  Why  _didn’t_  he just heal himself?  “Ah, well, some things…some things just have to heal by themselves, you know?  Don’t want to use up ALL my Aura,” he tried, grabbing for his chest plate and pulling it on.

“If you say so,” Pyrrha murmured.  She walked over and picked up one of Jaune’s arm plates.  “It is okay to ask for help with Cardin Winchester, Jaune.  We are a team.”

Jaune bit his lip, absently playing with a strap of leather from the other arm plate as it lay on the bed.  “I…,” he began, trailing off at another knock on the door.

Ren poked his head in curiously.  “Oh, there you are,” he said.  “We’re wanted in the gym in ten.”

“We’ll be there in a sec!” Jaune called, but Ren was already gone.

“Jaune, remember what I said,” Pyrrha said, looking worried as she took his arm and slid the plate in her hands up it.  “We are here for you, and we want to help.”

“I…I know,” he said, looking down as the other tightened the straps.  “And…thanks.  But I got it.”

He felt Pyrrha’s hand move to his shoulder and squeeze, and her boots clacked as she walked out of the room.  Jaune bit his lip as he stared down at the armor in his hands.  It was dented and dirty.  He’d have to take a day and get it back into order.  Just in time for Cardin to dent again.  With a sigh, he managed to cinch the straps of the last piece into place before grabbing his sword and shield to follow his teammates to the gym.

\- - - - -

“Oomph!”  Jaune’s breath left him in a gasp, falling to the ground on his ass from the force of the hit.  His sword flew to the side, and he tried to roll over and grab it.  A boot stopped him, pressure rolling him onto his back and holding him to the ground.

"Scared, loser?"  The look Cardin gave him was pure...something.  Jaune didn't have a word for it.  The taller boy raised his mace, ready to swing down, but Jaune managed to spin himself to knock into Cardin's leg.  The other was knocked off balance enough for Jaune to roll himself out and scramble to his feet.

"Go Jaune!" he vaguely heard Ruby yell, and he drew in a ragged breath before diving for his sword.  Cardin's mace hit his back, sending him flying across the arena.

He landed hard on his chest, bouncing a bit as he landed.  "Ow..." he moaned, curling himself into a ball despite being in the middle of battle.

"Giving up?"  Cardin's laugh was loud and hard.  "Pathetic."

Jaune's fingers curled around his sword's handle tightly before launching himself up and swinging at Cardin wildly.

Cardin blocked the strike, pushing against Jaune and forcing their weapons to slide against each other.  Jaune grit his teeth, standing his ground.  Cardin pulled his mace back, and Jaune's sword clanged against his shoulder armor.

The taller boy swung his weapon into Jaune's side, just under his armor, and Jaune hit the floor gasping.

"Match!" Professor Goodwitch called, and Jaune was glad for the break.  He felt hands under his arms pulling him up, and he managed to wheeze a thanks, panting heavily.

"Next challenger?" Goodwitch asked.  Jaune blocked all other input out as he was pulled from the gym.

\- - - - -

“’m…fine,” Jaune gasped, still trying to get his breath back after the hard hit to his side.  Blearily, he saw the doorway leading to the student rooms, but they turned just before entering the door.  “R…really guys…nothin’ to…be…worried about.”

“Jaune, you can hardly breathe,” he heard Pyrrha say, and he had to agree that she had a point.  It _was_ kind of hard to take a breath.  Oh, black spots…not good.  “You must go to the nurse.”

Jaune wriggled weakly, the grip on him – and _wow were there a lot of hands on him!_ – tightening as he did.  Not that he could get away, really, it was getting harder to keep himself up.  “I…got it…,” he wheezed.

“No you don’t, Jaune, now be quiet while I go find the nurse.”  Pyrrha’s hands left his arm, and only the hands of whoever was next to him kept him from falling to the ground.  Were they in the infirmary already?

“You need to sit,” the other person, who Jaune now recognized as Ren, muttered.  His legs hit something soft, and he fell onto it gratefully.  His side ached, a sharp, stabbing pain that was probably the cause of his breathing issues.

“Mr. Arc, why am I not surprised?”  The new voice that came in was brisk and professional, and Jaune recognized it as the nurse’s voice.  “I’m going to use my Aura to help get your breathing under control.  Ms. Nikos, Mr. Lie, when I am finished, take off his armor and shirt so I can see the area.”

Jaune blocked out everything that happened next, closing his eyes and letting the nurse work.

\- - - - -

“I see now what you meant by letting things heal,” Pyrrha murmured, helping Jaune get settled on his bed.  “Perhaps then you will allow us to help you with Cardin Winchester.”

Jaune ignored Ren walking in in favor of poking at the bandages around his chest.  “What I want to know is how he managed to break a rib through my armor,” he said.

Ren dropped Jaune’s armor and hoodie on his dresser.  “He hit upwards.  You got caught just under the side plate,” he said.  The other came over and put a hand on Pyrrha’s shoulder.  “We should get back and check how much damage Nora’s done,” he said.

“Bye, Jaune, we’ll be back to check on you!”  Pyrrha waved at him as the two exited the room.

“Yeah, later,” Jaune mumbled, letting his head thunk against his pillow and ignoring the flashing burn when he lay back.  He resisted the urge to try using his Aura to heal himself, knowing the nurse wanted him to let the bone begin to knit itself back together before he finished the job.

“Stupid Cardin,” he muttered, curling on his left side and attempting to sleep.

\- - - - -

“Remember, the Vytal Festival is only a week away.  Everyone who has submitted their names to me, please stay after class.  For the rest of you, the Vytal Festival will be a wonderful opportunity for you to connect with others studying to become hunters and huntresses…”

Jaune tuned Professor Goodwitch out, instead staring at his hands under his desk.  Despite his reservations (and Goodwitch’s when he told her), he was planning on competing, if only to not be the only one from his team sitting out.

“Class is dismissed early,” he heard, but he stayed seated next to Pyrrha, eyes focused on the desk in front of him.

“You all have elected to compete in the dueling tournament for the Vytal Festival,” Goodwitch began, and Jaune looked up to watch her.  “Since you are all new students here, you may not know how the tournament works.  Your first round will be against someone from another school.  Should you win, and I hope you all will-"  Was it just him, or did Goodwitch give him the eye already?  "-you will then do three more matches as you have.  Your fifth match, should you make it that far, will be against other students of this school to find our school champion.  The final four champions, one from each school, will do a round-robin to find this year's winner.  Even if you are eliminated, you will still compete in exhibition duels over the course of the festival, several of them previously unscheduled if you are eliminated earlier, so keep your school communicator on you at all times.  You will be given your schedules when we know the battle times.  If there are no questions, you all are dismissed as well.”

Jaune moved quickly from the practice hall, footsteps loud.  He ignored Pyrrha’s calls for him to stop, and turned down a hallway before his shoulder was grabbed roughly and he was slammed against the wall.

“Oh, it’s you,” he sighed.  “Come to beat me up again?”

Cardin Winchester snorted.  “Not unless you’re asking for it.  Listen, idiot, and listen well.  I won’t have you making the rest of us look bad, got it?”

Jaune narrowed his eyes at Cardin.  “So…what?  You’re going to make me drop out or something?”  He laughed, feeling brave.  “Too late for that one, genius.”

The grip tightened, and Jaune sucked in a tight breath through his nose.  He wasn’t wearing the right clothing – or armor – for this.  “No, but I CAN whip you into shape.  Tonight, 9, in the gym.  Bring your weapon, you’re gonna need it.”  Cardin let go of his shoulder – _and since when was he in the air because really_ – and stormed away, leaving Jaune to pick himself up off the floor and wonder just what was happening.

\- - - - -

“You moron,” Cardin snarled, towering over Jaune yet again.  “Are you taking in _anything_ I’m trying to teach you right now?!”

Jaune kept his eyes down, but internally he was flinging his options every which way.  Try to knock him down, attempt to grab his sword, or do his best at a hand-to-hand battle...  None of those options were ones Jaune wanted to try.

“Pathetic,” Cardin snorted, letting his mace fall to the floor inches from Jaune’s hand.  “Why am I even bothering?  You’re not even trying!”  With that, he planted a boot on Jaune’s chest plate, pinning him in place.

“You need to remember that you can see _everything_ on your screen if you take the time to use it.  But of _course_ you’re hopeless anyway.  I don’t know why I wasted my time,” were Cardin’s last words before he moved his foot from Jaune’s chest, grabbed his mace, and stalked from the room.

Jaune sighed and let his head thunk against the floor.  _Idiot_ , he chastised himself before pushing himself up again.

\- - - - -

“Don’t mess up tomorrow, loser,” were the only words Cardin said to him at all the next day, and all Jaune got was a shove into a locker.  Not that he minded that, really, it was just…he was expecting _more_ , more taunts, more injuries, more everything that made Cardin who he was in the school.

A bully.

Pyrrha shot him a glance out of the corner of her eye as he picked himself up from off the locker, and Jaune shrugged as if he had no idea what was going on with the redhead.  Inside, however, he felt the first tingles of panic settle in.  He wasn’t nearly ready enough to fight someone from one of the other kingdoms.

\- - - - -

Sweat poured off him, and he took a moment to wipe it away from his eyes.  Jaune stared at his opponent, who looked just as tired and sweaty as he felt.

The other lifted her sword and pulled herself into a position Weiss wouldn’t have looked out of place in.  Jaune assumed it was supposed to be some sort of fencing form, but he didn’t know for sure.  Instead, he glanced at the small screen in his hand, protected by the shield on his arm.  He was halfway down.  Enough to try for a good strike, but not much more if she managed to hit him as well.

He charged.

The girl ran forward as well, jumping up and pushing herself into the air off Jaune’s shield.  He skidded to a halt and watched her summersault to face him, swinging the sword down at him.  Jaune managed to block it with his shield and lashed out with his sword.  It stuck, leaving the girl with a bleeding wound on her leg.

“Match!” the official called, and Jaune blinked the sweat from his eyes again.  Already?  He looked at the screen in his hand, and sure enough hers was blinking in the red, his barely above it in the green.

“I won?” he asked, dazed, as Pyrrha rushed up and pulled him in for a hug.  He barely got a glimpse of the rest of his team and Ruby’s team coming up as well.

“Jaune, you won the match!” she exclaimed, as excited as he’d ever heard her.  He tried to draw in a breath to answer, but her grip around his neck was too tight.

“You won’t win the tournament by fighting like that, but you didn’t lose,” Weiss sniffed.  But that was high praise from the heiress, and Jaune grinned.  Pyrrha let him go, instead pulling him towards the food set up along one side of the central square.

“To celebrate!” she cried, pushing a glass of something dark in his hands.  Jaune eyed it, the tang of alcohol stinging his nose when he sniffed it.  But he didn’t comment, instead taking a giant gulp and gagging when it turned out a lot stronger than he’d thought.

“Pyrrha…what is that?” he wheezed.

“It is a rum from Mistral that is traditionally given to the victors of tournaments.  But in this case, I feel it is appropriate to celebrate your victory.”  Pyrrha smiled at him, obviously ecstatic.

“Rum, right…” Ren muttered, and Jaune smiled before taking a smaller sip of the rum.  Pyrrha wandered off, and Jaune turned to Ren.

“Is it just me, or…?” he asked, jerking his thumb at Pyrrha.

“She’s had alcohol in her hand all night,” Ren confirmed.  “She’s feeling it by now.  I'm going to go find her, make sure she doesn't get in another fight.”

The small group dispersed, leaving Jaune to wander around the rest of the festival alone.  He set the half-empty glass down on a table, already feeling relaxed and warm.  He even grinned at Cardin as the other came over.

“Won your first match,” he said neutrally.

“Yeah.”  Jaune kept smiling, lost in a bit of a haze.  “Why’re you so nice right now?”

“You’re floating so high I don’t think you’d understand if I was insulting you,” Cardin said.  Jaune frowned briefly, but ignored it when Cardin picked up his glass and downed a swig of it.

“What’s in that?” he asked, gasping.  Jaune laughed.

“It’s…it’s…it’s something Pyrrha made, I think,” he said, giggling.  “Or something.”

“Sure.”  Cardin pulled him up and slung an arm around his shoulder.  “How much have you been drinking?”

“Just…just a…not a lot.”  Whatever Pyrrha gave him was really alcoholic, Jaune decided.  He looked up at Cardin.  “H-how much have you…uh…”

“Some,” Cardin answered, cutting Jaune off from attempting his question.  “At least you took in _some_ of what I was trying to teach you,” he added.  He pulled Jaune away from the main part of the festival, heading down one of the side streets from the main square.

“No, but really, how mu-“

“Too much.”  Oh, was that a tongue on Jaune’s neck?  Jaune nearly stumbled as he was pushed back against a wall, hitting it with a dull thud.  The blond felt a vague pain on his neck then, the sensation dulled by alcohol.  Whatever Pyrrha gave him, he was going to regret it in the morning.

Not now, though.  Right now he was pressed against a wall with tongue and teeth and _sensation_ , and that was enough for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1/5/14 Edit: Fixed a few things missed in editing, modified the tournament rules a bit.


	2. Hanging from the Father's Hand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***NOTE: Chapter 1 has had minor revisions made, mostly in regards to how the Tournament works!***  
> Lyrics at the end are not mine. In my headcanon world, Casey Williams is a famous musician.
> 
> Be warned, I'm certain I haven't kept up writing continuity, as this chapter seemed excessively detailed. However, I'm fairly happy with it even though word count went overboard (goal was 2500-2800 words, total was 4,425 words).

It was too bright; he had to look away from the dance floor and the moving bodies.  Jaune's vision blurred for a moment as he moved, and when he stopped his eyes latched onto the only other person who had a face.

The other smirked, leaving the bar to walk over to Jaune.  He drew in a ragged breath as the other towered over him, the new smell of some cologne rich and sharp.  His vision blurred, and the drink in his hand was gone, the room empty save him and the other, and was that a wall against his back?

"Jaune," the other whispered, but his name was loud and it actually sounded like...Pyrrha?

"Jaune, wake up!"  Someone was shaking him, and Jaune's eyes flew open and searched wildly.

"I'm up, I'm up, what's wrong?!" he all but yelled, flailing helplessly and falling off the bed.  That hurt, he decided, rolling over tiredly and blinking at Pyrrha.

"Oh, hey, when did you get here?" he asked.

"Just now," she answered, reaching down to help him up.  Jaune took her hand and was pulled hard enough that he bounced once he was on his feet; he groaned, all too aware of a headache forming behind his eyes.  It definitely wasn't helped by his recent change in elevation.  "You slept long enough; it's almost time for the tournament to start again.  You have twenty minutes to get ready."  Pyrrha swished from the room, already dressed in her armor with her sword at her side.

Jaune looked at his bed, rumpled as it was from his mini-panic, then grumbled his way to the bathroom.  He shed his pajama shirt on the way, but stopped when he saw the mirror.

That bruise.  The giant bruise he’d discovered on his neck yesterday in a haze of hangover (and wasn’t that a _wonderful_ discovery, that he was so much of a lightweight that a glass of alcohol could do him in?  Well, it _had_ been strong, but seriously, Pyrrha could drink more than him without the hangover!) and a mild stinging pain on the spot in question.  He glared at it in the mirror for a moment longer before he turned to turn the shower on.

\- - - - -

 Jaune squeezed his eyes shut tightly, reopening them in time to watch Ruby fall back to the ground from her shot into the air, Crescent Rose held out behind her for balance.  Her opponent was in the air as well, broadsword held tightly in two fists.  He swung down as he began to fall, Ruby barely managing to block the hard swing.

"Go Ruby!" Jaune heard Yang yell from a different part of the stands.  He, however, looked up at the stats screen, a hard feeling of dread knotting in his stomach.

"She's not going to have enough left for another shot," he muttered, gripping the edge of the bleachers tightly.  She was going to try anyway, he thought, knowing the younger would not consent to give up even for a moment.

He was proven right, however, when the other fighter (someone by the name of Brett Meadow, who was apparently an upper year at Beacon) blocked the swing from the scythe and sent Ruby flying backwards.  She hit the ground, bar on the display blinking into the red.

"Match!" the official called, holding her hand towards Meadow.

Jaune blocked out the cheers and the groans (depending on who rooted for who) as he stood up and hopped his way down to the ground.  His sword clanged as he landed.

"Hey!" he called, watching Ruby walk - limp, really - away from the ring with her head hanging.

"Huh?  Oh, hi, Jaune," she mumbled, staring back at the ground as soon as she looked at him.

Jaune opened his mouth to talk, to tell her that  _it's okay she made it further than anyone at the other schools expected her to, especially since it was already the sixth round_  even though he was certain that would be a bad bad bad idea, but he was interrupted by Brett Meadow running up to them.

"I...hey," he said, gasping a bit.  Blood dripped from a gash on his forehead.  "Uh, can we talk for a second?" he asked, looking at Ruby hopefully.

Ruby looked at him in confusion, and Jaune's gut twisted when she nodded.  He scuffed his shoes as he walked away, lingering just long enough for the awkward beginning of 'Hey, you, uh...you fight good' to reach him.

He needed to go find his opponent, he decided, if only to get away from the scene behind him.

\- - - - -

 "I...hey, wait!"

The girl turned, gray eyes pinning him into place.  Jaune stopped for a moment, frozen as he looked at her, before he walked closer.  "Were...uh, were you the one I fought back on the first night?" he asked, hoping that  _this_  brunette was the right one.

"You are Jaune Arc of Vale?"  Jaune nodded.  "Yes, I was.  Adara Delis, from Mistral."

He gave her a quick grin and stuck out his hand.  "I didn't get a chance to congratulate you.  I-I mean, that was a good match we had, and I just wanted to say that even though – no, sorry, that’s…”

She gave what Jaune considered a smile, and shook his hand.  Her grip was _hard_ , he noted, a lot like Pyrrha’s when she forgot herself.  “I understand,” she said.  Jaune blew a breath between his teeth, letting the smile out for real.  “I enjoyed our battle as well.  Congratulations on your win.  It was a very hard-fought battle.”

“I, uh, thanks,” he said.  He felt so out of his element when she turned and left, and he wondered if he’d even talked to her at all once she was gone.

“Jaune!”

Jaune didn’t _shriek_ , per say, but he’d only admit to himself later that yes, he had actually jumped.  He whirled around in a faint panic, not even inches away from reaching for his sword.

“NORA!  Uh, um, what’re you doing here?” he asked, bringing up a hand to hold his head.  His hand was shaking, he noted absently as he brought it back down.

“Looking for you!”  The most hyper of his team bounced around him and grabbed his arm.  Jaune’s body jerked as he was tugged along.  Where they were going, he didn’t even have a guess.  “Pyrrha told me you’d left, and I saw you walking away from Ruby looking sad – why were you sad, Jaune?  Ren wouldn’t tell me, the meanie – and I decided to follow you!  It’s lunch time, too, and all of us – you, me, Ren, and Pyrrha, of course! – are gonna meet up with Ruby, Weiss, Blake, and Yang for lunch in the Feng-Du alley.  Ren says he hasn’t had food from his homeland in _years_ …”

Jaune blurred Nora’s excited chatter out, instead sending a forlorn look over his shoulder to where Adara had disappeared.  She’d been pretty; he’d wanted to tell her that (but not stutter and stumble like he had with, well, basically every other girl he’d met thus far).

He turned his head back around to take control of his own feet, and almost missed Cardin Winchester standing in one of the side streets leading past Festival housing back into the main city of Vale.  He gulped; what was with the redhead?  His face was…murderous, Jaune decided, as the other stared at Jaune and Nora.

“Uh…yeah!  That sounds great, Nora, and we should go meet them…right now,” he said, quickening his pace until he was pulling her.

\- - - - -

Jaune barely picked at his food, something he could barely pronounce, let alone know exactly what was in it (all he knew for sure was rice, some kind of meat, and a ton of broccoli that he, after deciding it wasn’t mush, ate first).

Pyrrha frowned in disapproval when he eventually just pushed away the rest, but Jaune was thankful when she didn’t comment.  He turned into the table a little more.  _Stupid, sitting next to Pyrrha when she’s studying you_ , he berated himself.  He hated when Pyrrha did that, but he hated himself more for never noticing in time to avoid her.

“…but the professors are going to do a series of exhibition duels tomorrow, or at least, that’s what I heard from one of the Vanir students,” Ruby said, and Jaune opened his mouth to comment how much Goodwitch would wipe the floor with the rest of the teachers when he froze.

He clamped his jaw together tightly, drew in a sharp breath through his nose, and for the first time since coming to Beacon, Jaune felt the first waves of true fear make his blood run cold.

_Not here, not now, not here, not now…_ he chanted, ignoring the looks from everyone at his table as he squeezed his eyes shut.

“Jaune, are you okay?”  He barely recognized the voice of Yang as he stood up violently, the weight of everyone else sitting keeping the table down.  He tripped getting out from between the table and the bench, and ignored everyone else as they yelled after him.

“Whoa, where you going so quickly, Arc?”  Jaune choked as he was grabbed by the hood and yanked around to face Cardin.

“I-now’s not really a good time, Cardin…” he mumbled nervously.  He almost tacked on _don’t you have other people to bother?_ , but the thought of saying that, of pushing the ‘attentions’ of Cardin onto someone else (and _wow_ that sounded wrong, but he didn’t know what else to call it exactly) made guilt overpower the panic, if only for a moment.

“Is that any way to talk to a friend, Arc?  I just wanted to have a little _chat_ since you went out of your way to avoid me earlier.”

Jaune looked around frantically and, when he didn’t see the cause of his panic, slumped boneless in his relief.  He hit the ground, however, when Cardin let go of his sweatshirt hood.

“Hey, what are you doing?” he asked, face coming into view as he bent down.  Jaune just blinked up at him.  “Are…are you drunk?  Again?”

Jaune frowned.  “No,” he snapped, jerking himself around so he could push himself to his feet and dust himself off.  “I’m just…”  What _was_ he doing?  He didn’t have an answer even for himself, so he settled for glaring at Cardin.

“Whatever,” the other snorted, looking away and crossing his arms.  For the first time, Jaune registered that it was just the two of them – well, them and various bystanders; none of Cardin’s team was around, nor Jaune’s.  “I wanted to talk, but apparently you’re too busy for me.  Fine.”

Cardin walked away, and Jaune squinted after him for a moment before shaking his head.  He was too stressed to try to figure out someone who already stressed him in the first place.

\- - - - -

"Jaune!  There you are!"

He started, looking around to see Yang standing below him, hands on her hips and - strangely - a smile on her face.

"Here I am," he agreed, turning his head back to watch the match.  It was two people from one of the other schools; he wasn't paying any attention to it, though.

He heard a grunting noise as Yang jumped up and pulled herself over the side.  He slid over to make room for her, leaving his warm spot behind for her.  The bench was  _cold_ , he decided, frowning a bit.

"Why'd you run off at lunch?" she asked.  Jaune winced.  She wasn’t even going to sugarcoat it.

"I..."  Jaune had lost count of the number of times he'd just not known what to say today.  He pursed his lips and stared down at the battle.  The dark-haired boy took apart the two pieces to his gun, one ending in a sharp point much like a rapier, the other just a seemingly useless piece until he used it to block the brown-headed boy's sword swing.

"That good, huh?"  They sat in silence for a moment, and Jaune could see Yang fidgeting from the corner of his eye.

"It’s just…you ran off, and Ruby panicked for a minute because she thought it was about…well, what she said, but it just didn’t make sense because it was just about our professors.  Everyone’s really worried, especially when Ren said that he’d seen you talking to Cardin just before we lost you again…”

Jaune shook his head, and Yang’s mouth snapped shut.  “It wasn’t anything you guys did,” he said.  “I just, I thought I saw someone I knew before Beacon, and we, we didn’t really part on the best of terms.  I think it was just a shadow, though.”

Yang looked thoughtful, and Jaune held his breath.  Below, the fight went to the boy with the sword, and the crowd clapped and prepared to leave.  He felt rooted to the bench, though; stuck like he’d been glued down.

“I can understand, I guess,” she said finally.  “I won’t ask why you ran, or what it was about, but you should talk to someone.  Ren, probably, he seems really level about stuff like this.  Or Pyrrha; you two are really close, aren’t you?”

“Yeah.”  They sat in silence for a few more moments, long enough for the next round to begin between two more Vanir students (he’d been hoping no one would look for him at another school’s designated ring, but apparently not).

“Hey, uh…I’m going to go tell the others I found you.  Do you want…company, or something?  I can tell-“

“NO!”  Yang looked at him with wide eyes, and he felt himself flush.  “I-I mean-“  If it was possible to turn more red than he felt right now, he did it, and _wow was it embarrassing_.  “I, uh, I just need another minute.”

He tried desperately to not fidget in front of Yang, but she eventually nodded and left him alone to stare at his feet.

\- - - - -

“What are you doing here, loser?  You’re out of events in the Festival.  Or is that too much for you to remember too?”

Jaune’s fingers flexed against the doorway to the small sparring room.  _You’ve already been spotted, just keep going_ , he told himself firmly.  “I was going to use the room, but you’re here,” he said, frowning at Cardin.

“No, really?”  Cardin snorted, and Jaune moved so he was standing in the doorway, not behind it.  “I would have never guessed.  There are other rooms, though.”

Jaune hid a flinch at the dull _thunk_ of Cardin’s mace hitting the floor through one of the dummies.  “Well, you said you wanted to talk earlier,” he said.  “So here I am.”

“Maybe I don’t want to talk now.”

Jaune scowled.  As long as he was going to be like that…  “Fine.  Guess it apparently wasn’t that important,” he muttered, twisting on his heel and walking from the room.  “I’ll find somewhere else to practice.”  Practice what, exactly, he didn’t say.  Mostly to keep blackmail down; Cardin already had enough reasons to last a lifetime.

“I didn’t say it wasn’t important.”  Jaune was secretly impressed; Cardin had run after him for this.  “But I’m not going to talk to you in the middle of the gym.

“It’s late,” Jaune said, looking at the clock.  It was already 11, and while most of the students would be getting back soon, he knew that very few others were here.  “And it’s almost the last day of the festival; tomorrow’s the last one.”  Last full day, anyway, he reminded himself, and the one that anyone would really care about.

“No kidding.”  Jaune _did not_ yelp when Cardin suddenly grabbed his arm and yanked (no matter how much it hurt- no, no, no, it did NOT hurt, thank you, and yes that was what he’d keep telling himself).  It didn’t take very long for them to end up on the roof of the school, with the voices of the returning students floating up to them.

“What was that for?!” he said, trying to keep his voice down.

“To get you up here,” Cardin answered.  He leaned against the door to the stairs, looking at Jaune.  He tried not to squirm.  “Let’s talk then.”

“I-!”  Jaune spluttered, casting around his mind for words.  “You were the one who wanted to talk to me earlier!  How should I know what that was about?!”

“Point,” Cardin said, tilting his head.  “I just wanted to… _discuss_ what happened on the first night of the tournament.”

Jaune pinched the bridge of his nose.  “Okay, seriously, the only thing I remember was up to halfway into the glass of whatever Pyrrha gave me.  So you’re gonna have to fill me in.”

“All you drank was half of that glass,” Cardin snorted.  Jaune glared at him, but couldn’t hide the flush on his face.  “I was…not drunk, but enough in that I still knew putting that hickey on your neck was a bad idea even though...”  Jaune’s hand flew to the spot, and Cardin full-out laughed at that one.  “You moron!  How’s that going to do anything?!  Besides, it was a one-time thing.  Wasn't it?"  Though it was said in a pleasant tone, Jaune took a step back at the implications, at how Cardin's fingers twitched as though headed for his mace.

“I, yeah, sure,” he said, stumbling over his words and nodding harshly.  His neck rattled a bit, and he winced.

“Good.”  Cardin stood up straight and reached for the door, but stopped.  Jaune didn’t have long to wonder why when he heard, “By the way, what was up with you earlier at the Festival?  You ran into me at full speed.  Which I still haven’t paid you back for.”

“It’s none of your business,” Jaune said, starting to feel defensive.  “Can I go now?”

“Fine, whatever.”  Cardin opened the door and gestured for Jaune to precede him down.  “Ladies first.”

Jaune frowned but took the invitation.  As soon as he’d passed Cardin, however, a boot planted itself in the middle of his back, and he went tumbling down the stairs.

“And here I was starting to miss the old Cardin,” Jaune muttered once he’d stopped on the landing.  He picked himself up and all but ran the rest of the way to the rooms he shared with his team.  It would be a long night if Cardin caught him again.

\- - - - -

“Jaune!”

He looked up at the familiar yell, spotting Pyrrha wave at him over the crowd.  He forced a smile and waved back, slowing to let her catch up.

“I feel as though I have not seen you since the beginning of the tournament,” she said, hooking her arm with his and gently pulling him down a side street.  “Lunch?”

“Sure.”  They walked in silence to the Mistral alley, and he let Pyrrha order for both of them.  He at least got her to let him pay for her, which he counted as a win, and soon they were seated at a table.  At least this one he knew what the food was.

“So what’s up?” he asked, trying and failing to catch a tomato when it slipped off his plastic fork.

“I am having lunch with you,” she said, sounding bemused to Jaune.  He almost said something, but the corners of her mouth twitched.

“I knew we’d rub off on you!” he said, grinning widely at her.  She let her own, smaller, grin slip out as well, and Jaune beamed even more at her.

“I share a dorm with you, of course I pick up on your habits,” she answered, putting a forkful of pasta salad to her mouth.  “Now, however, I wish to speak with you about yesterday.”

_Ohhhh_ , was all Jaune’s mind could think of; not exactly the most helpful thing.  “I…

“I, uh…” he trailed off, feeling the pit of _bad things_ in his stomach at the sight behind Pyrrha.  _Ignore it, ignore it, ignore it, it’ll go away._   He knew the sentiment was childish, but couldn’t help but revert out of panic.

“Jaune, what is going on?” Pyrrha asked, looking behind herself.  Jaune shrank in his seat, letting out a breath when the figure he’d seen moved on without looking at them.

“It’s…a long story, and I can’t tell you here,” he said.  “I-I promise I’ll tell you, but…later, okay?”  He desperately wished crossing his fingers would actually do something about breaking promises, but it was likely he’d be telling her later.

“I will hold you to that promise,” she said, before distracting him with other talk of the tournament.

\- - - - -

/ _don't you worry about the dark..._ /

Jaune’s eyes slipped closed as he timed his movements to the music, not worried about crashing into anyone on what he knew to be an empty dance floor.  This, dancing, was normal; something good in his recently-crazy life.  With the main part of the Festival over, he could just take a moment to _relax_.

/ _like the smell of a rose on a summer's day..._ /

The music pounded in his ears, reverberating across his body and the floor as he moved.  The club was almost empty, but that didn't stop the DJ from keeping the music on for the lingerers.  It was quieter than before, which Jaune was grateful for at least.  It was hard to lose himself with a loud beat, and that was all he needed at the moment.  He shivered at the tingles skating across his skin.  This…this he could handle.

/ _I will turn your life to gold..._ /

Jaune opened his eyes as the song ended, Cardin's chest inches from his face.  He scrambled back.  When did Cardin get here?  He thought he'd been the last Beacon student in the club.

"...hey," he muttered, looking anywhere but at Cardin.  "What're you doing here?"

He risked a small glance to Cardin's face, blinking in confusion.  Was that...fondness?  Couldn't be.  Cardin hated him even more after...whatever they were doing, Jaune didn't know, but he barely remembered it even four nights later.  Not that Cardin had liked him before, even, but...

"Was gonna leave, since the New Year’s celebration is over," Cardin mumbled, and Jaune strained to hear him as the first beats of the  _Red Like Roses_  remix began to thrum in his ears, lulling him back to the half-aware state from before.  "But I saw you were still here.  I was pretty sure Nikos would've killed me if you'd gotten hurt-" here he snorted, and Jaune's mouth twisted in a wry grin.  Leave it to Cardin Winchester to assume Pyrrha would blame him for everything.  "Anyway.  You...why don't you use this on the battlefield?"

"I-huh?"  This wasn't going how Jaune expected.  Usually...Jaune didn't even know what usual was between them anymore.  It seemed like their interactions swung wildly between full-on hate to being pressed up against a wall with tongue and teeth and things that Jaune wasn't sure he wanted to deal with now.

Or ever.  In all eternity.

"You..."  Cardin's face twitched into frustration.  Idly, Jaune wondered how long it would take for his face to turn full-out red.  "You dance like you were born to do nothing else.  Have you ever watched yourself?  It's a thing of beauty.  Dancing and fighting are really closely related as well."

Jaune stared at him in confusion, with the sinking feeling that this was going to become standard when Cardin was around.  "Really?"

"YES!  Idiot," Cardin muttered the last part under his breath.  "Grace and footwork are essential for swordwork.  Didn't your swordsmaster tell you that?!"

"I...uh, swordsmaster?"  Jaune's head spun with the incredulous look on Cardin's face.  "I didn't exactly go to a Hunter's prep school!" he added indignantly at the continued look on Cardin's face.

"How...never mind," Cardin said, and Jaune's brow furrowed, curious about what he'd been about to ask.  "I'm no swordsman, obviously, but I had to take a few lessons under a master while I was at Signal.  Every time I tripped over my feet, or wasn't as quick as he wanted, he made me play some weird dance game.  I- you really had no idea?"

Jaune shook his head, partly in shock and partly to answer the question.  "My grandfather taught me how to use it, before he died," he muttered, trying not to be heard.  By the look on Cardin's face, he hadn't succeeded.  Jaune sighed, preparing himself to be asked the inevitable...

"Well, I still know enough to help, I think."  Jaune looked up in surprise.  Cardin's shoulders were hunched in and his face was surly, but somehow it didn't reach his entire face.  Jaune pursed his lips and studied the other.

He _knew_ Cardin didn’t do anything for charity; hadn’t seen him helping anyone else out like he was offering to do with Jaune.  Even their previous ‘training agreement’ was to keep him from failing in the first round (not that he made it past the second, but the fact that he made it _into_ the second round was a miracle in itself).

“What…”  Jaune licked his suddenly-dry lips.  The song had long-since moved into _This Will Be The Day_ ; apparently, the late-night crowd wanted the Casey Williams songs.  Not that Jaune minded, it was just…ironic, he guessed, that this song came on while they were apparently striking a deal.  “What do you want in return?”

The pit of dread in Jaune’s stomach grew bigger at the smirk on Cardin’s face.  He didn’t like that smirk at _all_.  “I’m sure I’ll…think of something.”

_Never agree to anything when you don’t know what you have to do to get it_.  His grandfather’s words echoed in his head, and Jaune flashed back to sitting on the man’s lap, more interested in the shiny things on his face, but the man had made Jaune repeat it until whenever he saw him, the toddler simply parroted it on instinct than any question.

He shook his head.  Now was not the time for him to get lost in memories.

“No deal?  Too bad, Arc.  I could’ve helped you.”  And just as suddenly, the cold mask was back on Cardin’s face, scowl in place.  “Good luck getting anywhere now, loser.”

“But!  I didn’t say anything…” Jaune muttered, watching the taller boy walk out the doors of the club.  He glanced at his communicator, scowling when he noticed the time.

As he walked back to Beacon, however, he couldn’t help the curling fear in his stomach.

He didn’t get any sleep that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got questions and want a faster and/or more detailed response? Send me an ask (anon is allowed!) on tumblr: [pflcarolina](http://pflcarolina.tumblr.com). Or leave a comment or message me through here!
> 
> Yes, yes this is more (finally). This entire ship is a little piece of wood that I'm desperately clinging to while I scramble for a bit of plot (no but this is where plot is kinda, sorta added). Things will pick up. Finally listed this as AU, which it's been for...ever, basically. I've said welp to canon and, while keeping backgrounds and such the same, any episodes after 11 may only have pieces that are canon (considering I'm already at the tournament and the season ended prior to it). And the world is definitely AU; we don't know everything about the Vytal Festival or the world of Remnant in general, but for the way I have this set up, I've made up a LOT now.


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